Forever Dreams (Montana Brides, Book 1)

Chapter Eight

Trent hooked his arm around Gracie's shoulders. After the conference dinner and the Cirque du Soleil show at the Venetian, they'd escaped with three other couples on a tour of Las Vegas.

Halfway through the night, Gracie discovered frozen raspberry margaritas. As they'd moved in and out of the shuttle bus, she'd become less steady on her feet, purring like a pussycat against his body.

The Fountains of Bellagio were the last stop of the night. Everyone had been looking forward to the spectacular water, light, and music show on the lake outside the casino. While they were waiting for the next performance, they walked into the hotel, heading toward the bar.

Trent looked at Gracie. Big blue eyes stared straight back at him. "Are you sure you want to order another margarita? What about an orange juice?"

With a slightly dazed look in her eyes, Gracie reached up and brushed her lips across his neck.

He held back the groan that swept through his body.

"Don't worry. You can tuck me into bed when we get back if you like."

"I don't think it's a good idea to have another margarita."

She trailed a hand along his jaw. "Last one, I promise."

Trent kept a careful eye on what she was doing. He'd never seen her tipsy, and doubted she'd ever drunk this much alcohol in one evening.

When her drink arrived, Gracie sipped it delicately, like a butterfly savoring a glass of nectar. Nectar with a healthy punch that would leave her with a massive hangover the next morning.

When everyone started moving into the hotel entrance, he grabbed the half-full glass out of her hands and left it on a table.

Gracie headed across to the lake, taking an unnatural interest in the water. He held her waist firmly beneath his hand. Her little blue dress didn't stand a chance against the shimmering fountain and skinny dipping wasn't on tonight's list of attractions.

Ted Davidson, a cattle rancher from Ohio, stood beside them. "What do you two lovebirds have planned for the rest of the evening?"

Gracie turned to Ted and in a matter-of-fact voice said, "We're getting married."

The hiccup at the end was a dead giveaway to her level of intoxication. Either Ted didn't hear it or he didn't think such a sweet looking woman could get plastered on four margaritas.

Trent coughed into his hand as he stared at Gracie's innocent expression. If you didn't know her too well, you'd think she was stone cold sober and working on all six cylinders.

Before Trent could stop him, Ted yelled across to his wife, "Did you hear that, Marianne. Gracie's getting married."

A squeal of delight erupted from somewhere behind him.

"What's that you said? Married?"

Marianne, a woman in her early sixties with enough diamonds dripping from her neck to keep his ranch afloat for a decade, walked across to Gracie and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"That's so romantic, darlin'. And here I was, thinking you and your man were only here for a bit of romancing under the Nevada stars."

The rest of the conference group gathered around them like honeybees to a hive. Gracie swayed slightly on her feet, accepting all the congratulations like a seasoned pro. Trent tried telling everyone it wasn't going to happen, but no one seemed remotely interested in listening to him.

"When are you getting married?" Marianne asked in a hushed whisper.

Gracie gazed up at him. With an alcoholic grin painted across her face, she told them, "As soon as we find Elvis' chapel."